


Squirrel

by kate_the_reader



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, Sickfic, dream but not the usual kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 18:35:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12894261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/pseuds/kate_the_reader
Summary: In a charming bolt hole, Arthur isn't well. But Eames is there to look after him.





	Squirrel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hooptedoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooptedoodle/gifts).



> Part of Advent Oddments, in which mycitruspocket, MsBrightsideSH and I will attempt to post a fic each day of advent, working from prompts supplied by our dear friend, hooptedoodle. Thank you for your mad inspiration, darling.  
> And to my partners in fic, thank you always, for everything.

It’s been a tough few months, staying in shitty hotels, working long hours for a crappy client, but now they are back “home” -- in one of Eames’ boltholes. A ridiculously charming cottage in a village somewhere in England. Arthur only saw it in the dark as they arrived, but he’s sure it’s as charming outside as inside.

When he opens his eyes, he looks up at a sloping, beamed ceiling. He’s alone in bed under a patchwork quilt, so he gets up to look for Eames. And immediately sinks back down feeling as if he’s been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Which he knows he wasn’t. For all that the job was awful, there was no physical, real-world violence. But now he notices, he is aching all over, his head is pounding and his throat’s on fire. He can’t even call out for Eames, and he can’t hear any noises downstairs, so he lies still and watches the light slant into the room, filtered through leaves.

“Darling?” Eames is sitting on the edge of the bed; Arthur must have dozed off again.

“I feel … awful.”

“I suspected as much, you were burning up. I went to get some things.” He hands Arthur a pill and a glass of water. “Take this. And try to drink all the water.”

Arthur does, and his throat feels a little better. He lies back down.

“Probably a nasty dose of flu, sleep and fluids should see you right. Would you like some orange juice?”

“You know what I’d really like? A cup of tea.”

“Darling!” says Eames, smiling fondly at him. “Of course you would.”

He goes downstairs and Arthur hears the sound of the tap, the whistle of the kettle and the clink of china: homely sounds, comforting after the recent past. 

Eames comes back in with a tray: a teapot, two mugs, milk, sugar and a plate of cookies. He sets it on the wide windowsill and pours them each a mug. He reaches behind Arthur and fluffs up his pillows so he can sit up. 

Arthur sips his tea and nibbles a cookie and feels a bit better. When he’s done, Eames says: “Would you like a bath? And fresh sheets while you soak?”

Back in the remade bed, Arthur dozes between cool sheets. Eames sits in the armchair near the window reading.

\---

If only he could run faster, he could escape from the giant squirrel chasing him, reaching out with it’s not-so-tiny hands, chittering menacingly, its beady eyes gleaming with malice. But he can’t run any faster, he’s panting and his throat is burning and his head is pounding and his legs are heavy.

\---

“Sweetheart? Wake up, Arthur.”

“What?” Eames is leaning over him, a look of concern creasing his brow. “What?”

“You were having a bad dream.”

“A giant squirrel was chasing me … I couldn’t run fast enough.” He laughs, but that makes his throat hurt.

“Darling.” Eames gets onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, and pulls Arthur close. His hand is cool as he pushes Arthur’s hair off his forehead. “Fever dream. Giant squirrel, eh?”

Arthur nods, leaning his head against Eames’ thigh. “It was huge.” He drifts back to sleep surrounded by Eames.

When he wakes, Eames has slipped down in the bed and is fast asleep himself.

Arthur hears a sound at the window. A squirrel is sitting on the sill outside, peering in at them. He lies still and watches it.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts were: squirrel, orange juice, compassion ...


End file.
